


everyone I know goes away, in the end

by sleepybois_inc (the_ace_place)



Series: Ranboo-centric [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No beta we die like Edward, Panic Attacks, Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), also I'm blatantly ignoring the whole "no eyelids" thing, ik it says "RPF" but this is about the characters not the streamers!, title is from "hurt" by Johnny Cash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28961838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ace_place/pseuds/sleepybois_inc
Summary: Ranboo overhears something he really wasn't supposed to.(or, Phil and Techno really shouldn't have conversations about the potential usefulness of people that live with them)
Relationships: Eret & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: Ranboo-centric [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135250
Comments: 18
Kudos: 887
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	everyone I know goes away, in the end

**Author's Note:**

> tw // panic attack

Ranboo hadn’t meant for this to happen.

Yet, it was inevitable, wasn’t it? His whole schtick was “choose people, not sides,” yet other people had such a hard time choosing _him_. 

He hadn’t meant to overhear them.

All he wanted was to give them the cookies he made. That was it. He’d accidentally burnt his fingers on the pan, braved the snow, and gone up to the wooden cabin, in that specific order. He _remembered_ doing those things, without even having to check his memory book. 

In hindsight, he should’ve known it was coming. 

And yet, after all these months of betrayals and backstabbing and war and strife, he was somehow still surprised. 

Ranboo had walked up to the door, but when he heard Phil and Techno talking, he stopped in his path. What he’d planned to do was leave the innocent tray of cookies on the doorstep for them to find and heat up later, rather than intrude on their conversation. That plan changed when he heard his name.

He really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop! Ranboo thought that maybe one of the older men had heard him outside, and was going to open the door, so he stayed and listened for the telltale sign of footsteps.

Footsteps were not what he heard next. 

“I dunno, Phil. I still think that Niki is a better first recruit. You know the kid can’t choose a side to save his life, and a syndicate kinda sounds like a side if you ask me.” 

“I get what you mean, mate, but hear me out. I’m thinkin he could be valuable, if we can convince him.”

“Oh?”

“Listen, Ranboo’s got memory problems, right? Who’s to say we can’t just set him off, let him get his hands dirty, and then make him forget about it? You of all people should know how dangerous he could be, he’s a fuckin enderman hybrid.”

Techno huffed out a laugh. “That’s kinda low, even for us, Phil.” 

“It’s not like he’d be able to tell anyone about the Syndicate, anyway. He’s found the secret entrance, what, twice? And he still can’t remember it exists?” 

Outside the door, a platter of baked goods crashed to the ground with a resounding, metallic thud. 

Phil whipped around, glancing at the door in mild surprise. “You gonna get that, mate, or should I?”

“I literally just sat down, I think it’s your turn, Mr. Minecraft.” 

Phil sighed heavily, adjusting the ever-present bucket hat resting on his head. “It’s probably just another zombie villager wandering around. I’ll see if I can get it into a boat.” 

He stood up, making his way over to the door. “Could be an enderman, kinda sounds like one. We _have_ been getting low on pearls lately,” Phil mentioned. “See, it’s just---”

The door was swung open, revealing a trembling teenager. Tears rolled down his face silently, sizzling in contact with his sensitive skin. His half-and-half face was blurring, almost as if his body couldn’t decide if it wanted to teleport or not. 

Phil paled. “Fuck.”

“What is it, Phil?”

“Listen, Ranboo, buddy, why don’t you come inside and we can talk about this? You really weren’t supposed to hear---”

He was cut off by a sudden, heart-wrenching wail, distinctly inhuman. And, in a flash of purple particles, the hybrid was gone. 

Now, Ranboo wasn’t very well-versed in the art of teleporting. Instead of being able to control where he ended up, like a full-blooded enderman, his pearl was a little jumpy and liked to leap around wherever it pleased when he got distressed. 

It didn’t help that, as his body disappeared into static, all he could think about were those words, over and over in his head like some sort of broken record. 

_Make him forget. Make him forget. Make him forget. Make him forget. Make him forget._

He wasn’t very coherent by the time he arrived at his completely undetermined destination. So when his body reformed in poof of purple particles, all Ranboo could do was collapse to his knees. And he _sobbed_. 

The stream of tears was steady, and it hurt. Burns etched their way into his face, the salt stinging the fragile skin even more. His forehead pressed into the cool stone beneath him, and he let out another inhuman wail. 

It was just like him, wasn’t it? To finally trust someone, and then have his world completely turned on its head?

It was just like him. 

  
It must be _something_ about him, right? Something that made people hate him? Something that made him break down so easily, at even the slightest hint of a betrayal?

He deserved this.

He _had_ to deserve this. Because it always happened to him. Over and over, more times than he could remember. Before he was even allowed into Dream’s lands. Before he even left the End. 

The world was just an endless stream of hate and anger. And, as Ranboo came to this realization, he also realized that he was dying. 

He was dying. There was no air in his lungs, and he was suffocating. Vaguely, he was able to recognize that he was hyperventilating, but this realization was quickly overridden by the fact that he was _dying_. 

He rolled onto his side in a small ball, clutching his memory book to his chest. He was going to suffocate and lose his first life and respawn right back next to Phil and Techno and _that was the opposite of where he wanted to be_ and he just wanted it all to stop. 

He would scream, but he didn’t have enough air. 

A voice cut through his wasteland of a mind, staticky and distorted. “Ranboo? Can you hear me, buddy?” 

The hybrid shuddered. He didn’t have enough energy to respond, despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

“C’mon, kid. You’ve gotta breathe.”

Breathe? What was breathing, again? 

The voice sighed. “Can I touch you?”

Ranboo didn’t really have an answer for that, so he gave a small, barely perceptible nod. 

“Okay. Okay. You’re okay,” the voice soothed. A hand found Ranboo’s, and gently pried it away from its death-grip on his memory book.

The hand guided Ranboo’s to a flat, warm surface. It moved up and down, slowly and calmly. Another hand found its way to Ranboo’s back, rubbing calm circles into his suit jacket. 

“You can feel me breathing, right? You’ve gotta follow along, kid. Can you try to follow along?” 

Ranboo took a shuddering gasp of air that was ultimately unsuccessful. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head frantically. 

“Can’t… I can’t…”

“You _can_. You’ve gotta keep trying, ok? Follow along with me.”

He tried for another gasp of air, and was slightly more successful. 

“That’s it! Keep trying.” 

And he did. It took longer than he would care to admit, but each shuddering breath that Ranboo took in was slightly easier than the last. They stayed there for several minutes, on the ground like that; it was hard to tell how much time passed, but ever-so-slowly, the suffocating feeling left Ranboo’s lungs. 

The hand that was on Ranboo’s back shifted, instead coming to his face to wipe away some of the burning tears. “You’re doing great, kid. Just keep breathing, nice and deep, ok?”

_In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four._

This pattern repeated for another several minutes. It repeated until Ranboo could do it on his own, without having to follow the other’s breathing. It repeated until the feeling returned to his fingers, allowing him to release the memory book from where it had been clenched by his claws. It repeated until the stream of tears slowly, steadily came to a stop. 

“Hey, good job, kid,” the voice said. “That must’ve been hard to come out of. I’m proud of you.”

Ranboo tried to open his eyes, but the world outside was too bright, and they immediately slammed shut once more. He winced, bringing his newly freed hands to his eyes, rubbing away the stray tears that still stung his skin. Trying to dispel the stars that burned into the backs of his eyelids, Ranboo tried again, instead squinting his eyes before hesitantly opening them, much slower the second time around.

What greeted him was dust and debris, and Ranboo quickly realized that he was in the crater that once had been L’Manburg. Crouched next to him was a familiar figure; rather than their usual attire, they wore a white blouse with a green skirt, ever-present crown still perched upon their head. 

“Eret,” Ranboo whispered. 

“That’s my name,” they said, not unkindly. 

Ranboo slowly sat up, joints protesting at the sudden shift. “Why’re you here?” 

“Well,” Eret began, “I was actually looking for my axe. It’s been missing since doomsday. But then I found you.”

“Oh.”

“Why’re _you_ here, then? Thought you were living in the arctic, now?”

Oh, and there went Ranboo’s delicate grasp on his emotions. Tears welled up in his eyes once more, and he shuddered, reaching for his memory book. 

“Woah, woah, it’s ok! Deep breaths, remember?”

The hybrid took a few moments to compose himself, blinking away the newfound tears that plagued him once again.

“I… don’t think I can live there, anymore.” 

Eret frowned. “Did something happen?”

“I guess you could say that,” Ranboo muttered. He opened his memory book, and began scribbling down the events of the day. Because if he ever forgot what had happened, with Phil and Techno? He’d go crawling back to them the very next day, as if nothing had ever occurred. 

Eret sighed, adjusting their crown. “Do you need a place to stay, kid?”

Ranboo’s eyes widened, distracted from his memory book for the moment. Now, he didn’t know Eret very well, but he did know that the ruler was notorious for switching sides at the drop of a hat. But, on the other hand, Ranboo _was_ currently homeless. 

  
The royal seemed to sense his thoughts. “Listen, kid, I know you don’t like sides. This is _just_ a place to stay. Nothing more, nothing less. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. And I’ve got more extra rooms than I can count.” 

“No sides?”

“No sides.”

Ranboo sighed. “...Maybe just for tonight. Just so I can figure out where to go next.” 

Eret grinned widely. “Excellent!” They stood up, brushing some dust off of their skirt and offering a hand to Ranboo. “My axe can wait for another time. Let’s go home.”

Ranboo snapped his memory book closed, and took the offered hand. 

Things weren’t perfect. Ranboo had just lost his home, and his trust in the few people he thought actually cared about his well-being. He knew that he’d have to find a new place to stay, and that he’d eventually have to go back to the arctic for his pets and possessions. He’d have to face Techno and Phil again. 

But, just for a moment, everything almost felt like it would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This hurt me to write because I LOVE the Ranboo-Phil-Techno dynamic. This isn't really "canon" to my interpretation of the SMP-- it's more of a "what-if?" situation, that more deeply explores that comment Phil made about how Ranboo's forgetfulness could be useful. Thanks for reading!


End file.
